My Childhood Friend Turned Soulmate (Philip Hamilton X Reader)

My Tattoo

I yelped and pressed my hand against my shoulder, as if to somehow stop the pain. My skin felt like someone was stabbing a hot rod into it, every poke more painful then the last, making tears start to fall from my eyes. I fell to my knees and winced as my shoulder continued to ache, and finally it stopped, almost instantly.

I sat up and rubbed my shoulder to release the final bits of pain I was feeling. Rubbing at my eyes to wipe the tears away, I pulled the fabric of my gown away to reveal what exactly happened to it. And that's when I saw it.

Instead of my (skintone) shoulder, I saw lines of black flowing to form a picture. I instantly shot to my feet and rushed over to the mirror hung on the wall near the window. I slowly moved the sleeve of my dress fully away from the intricate design and saw as the moon lit up the details.

Around the curve of my shoulder an angel's wing flowed, almost in a protective manner, and through the end feathers was a ring of metal, like a halo. The halo had a heart etched onto it and two designs I couldn't make out.

I couldn't believe it. I finally had my tattoo! I couldn't help but jump and cheer, but then I stopped myself remembering there were sleeping adults below me.

Realizing what time it was, I finally got to bed and turned out the lights- only to stare at the ceiling for a while because of how excited I was.

I actually got my tattoo. I can finally know who my soulmate is! The whole idea made me squirm in happiness in my quilted covers.

Finally agreeing that I wouldn't be able to sleep for a while, I remembered that letter on my desk.

I got up from my bed again and sauntered over to the desk, gingerly picking up the letter that lay there. "To (Y/N), from Philip" was written on the front in his usual cursive font.

I remembered how Philip gave it to me.

"Don't stay there too long, ya' hear!" Philip joked. He pointed a finger at me, as if I would get in big trouble if I didn't obey. I giggled and saluted.

"Yes sir! Absolutely sir!" He laughed and pulled me in for a hug. My heart fluttered in my chest as I squeezed him, closing my eyes in pure contentment. When we pulled apart, he put up one finger to signify me to wait a moment, and turned around slightly to pull something out of his pocket.

A tan, worn out letter- as most of the letters looked like that, was in his hand as he fiddled with the edge a bit, almost thinking over what I assumed to be giving me the letter.

I just waited patiently and looked at his face. His eyes were cast downwards and to the left, flicking here and there. He was biting the right edge of his lip and his eyebrows were furrowed and thoughtful. He finally huffed and turned back to me. He grabbed my right hand suddenly and put my knuckles to his lips. I should've been used to that by now, but every time I still had a pink rush on my face.

He pulled my hand away and placed the letter in my hand, holding it there for a moment.

"Promise me you'll only read this on your birthday." He pleaded. I was surprised. He had gotten so serious, like something really bad would happen if I didn't comply. I smiled slightly and nodded. He looked a little relieved and let go of my hand.

"Have fun alright!" He said, finally stepping back as I turned towards the carriage.

"I will!" I waved, giving my suitcase to the driver and walking to the door. He waved back and smiled, standing there until I could no longer see him.

I smiled at the memory. Deciding that I could finally read that letter, I felt around for a match on the desk to light a candle. The familiar wood stick reached my hands and I quickly lit it, putting the flame on the wick of the candle. I sat down and opened the letter.

To the birthday girl,

It feels like only yesterday I met you for the first time, right? Time goes by fast doesn't it?

This probably goes without saying, but you should know you are one of my best friends, I feel like I can be myself around you- be able to laugh, be a dork, write corny love poems, and be a hopeless romantic without fear.

The next paragraph was written, but it had furious scribbles through it, as if Philip was unhappy with how he wrote it and tried again the next time.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, there's something about you I can't describe. Maybe it's the fact that we grew up together that I feel so connected to you, or I guess it could be something else.

Whenever I'm with you, I feel like it's my responsibility to make sure you are happy, living your best life. I feel like I'm supposed to be the strongest person in your life, but you make me feel so... weak.

My heart swells when I'm around you, I get nervous, awkward- and I don't know why. But I have an idea.

I know you get your tattoo today, so, to test my theory, could you meet me at the park the day after you get back? Around that big tree on the hill where we accidentally fell asleep for three hours and my dad got the police to come find us.

Happy birthday (Y/N). Did I say that yet? I hope your day is something special.

Sincerely,
Philip Hamilton

My eyes were closing by the time I finished the letter, so I put the paper down, blew out the candle, and went straight to sleep.

///

I opened my eyes to see myself staring back at me. But it wasn't exactly me. I was older, more mature. I looked down at myself to see that I wasn't there at all. There was nothing for me to look at. The whole area was dark, except for a single spotlight to show where the other me was.

I- the other me, was standing on a podium by herself. An elegant blue gown flowed and her hair was neat and pretty. Mumbled blurbs of words sounded from her left, but she was unfazed by them. She was gazing forward, but then her eyes locked onto mine. Her expression turned shocked and fearful. She turned to her left, screaming.

I heard a gunshot.

I sat up immediately just in time for that same old crow to sound its usual alarm.